


Avocados don't Cry

by reaperlove



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Attempt at Humor, Bad Dirty Talk, Crack, Cursed Dean, Hungry Dean, Oral Sex with an Avocado, Other, Talking Food, drunk crying avocado, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-27
Updated: 2016-07-27
Packaged: 2018-07-27 03:24:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7601536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reaperlove/pseuds/reaperlove
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Out of a drunken whim, Gabriel curses Dean to hear everything his food has to say. And that is a lot.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Avocados don't Cry

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [Avocados Weinen Nicht](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7520242) by [reaperlove](https://archiveofourown.org/users/reaperlove/pseuds/reaperlove). 



> Because I WON this month's [SPN Coldest Hits](http://spncoldesthits.tumblr.com), I translated the whole mess of a fic into English. Enjoy.
> 
> It also is my fill in for the Free Space square for [the spn kink bingo](http://spnkinkbingo.tumblr.com), I choose Dirty Talk.

 

Dean had been through alot in his incredibly hard life, but this, this was worse than 40 years in hell and all of it was Gabriel’s fault. He’d gotten spectacularly drunk, teleported into the bunker (damn archangels, not a fucking thing you could do against these winged sackrats), put a finger to Dean’s forehead and disappeared with a flutter of his wings, all the while giggling like the lunatic he always used to be. 

 

At first, Dean filed the whole incident under “stupid angel crap” and went to bed. Only when he tried to take a bite of his breakfast burger the next morning, the whole weight of Gabe’s simple finger boop thingie came crushing down on him with a vengeance. 

 

“NOOOOOOOOOOOOO, NOT THE TEETH!”

 

Dean let the burger fall back onto the plate, drew his gun from where it was taped under the table and searched the kitchen for the source of the bloodcurdling screams. Maybe Sam and Cas had pulled one of their silly pranks on him before they went to Portland to pick up some obscure underground occult book collection. Yeah, that was probably it. Shrugging he sat down again to finish his meal and just as he was sinking his teeth into the juicy meat, the voice came back.

 

“AAAAAARGH! THIS EXCRUCIATING PAIN! Please, kill me now, I can’t stand this any more, my whole lower body - everything’s gone from the waist down! I don’t want to live like this!” 

 

The desperate sobbing and pained squealing definitely came from his breakfast. What the actual fuck? Dean carefully kicked the burger he had thrown on the ground.

 

“OWWWWW! Oh merciful God, please take me and end my misery! HEY, yeah you there, the giant furuncle in a butt ugly robe! This is on you, do something, asap!”

 

Out of pure instinct, Dean shot an iron bullet through the thing and the ear deafening noise stopped. He put the remains into one of Bobby’s old curse boxes and for good measures, he added some rock salt and sprinkled it with borax. You never knew if the Leviathans found a way to crawl out of Purgatory and they had a history of messing with his sandwiches. He then renewed all the sigils and emptied the fridge into the bin. You can never be careful enough or whatever.

 

He spent hours and hours searching the lore for talking food without any results and when he couldn’t ignore his rumbling tummy anymore, he grabbed the Impala keys and drove to the nearest diner. He couldn’t think straight on an empty stomach (not that anything about him ever was straight, but you know, meh).

 

He opened the door to “Rosie’s Grill” and hit a wall of sound that had him stumbling back. Only when he realized that it was the Cesar’s salad that begged to spare its children and the waffles that asked for a blindfold and a last cigarette and not the dining people did he shove his trusty colt back into the waistband of his jeans and retreated slowly to his car.

 

I can hear the food talk. THE FOOD TALKED! That was the only thing going through his mind on the drive all the way back to the bunker. Determination filled his eyes during the last miles, he wouldn’t let that smegma ridden excuse for an angel win. Before the sun would set, he swore to himself, this nonsense would be over.

  
  


<><><><><><><><><><>

  
  


Five sunsets and what felt like a trillion hours later and he had nothing, nothing at all on how to break the curse. He couldn’t get hold of Sam and Cas, and even the most intricate spells couldn’t summon Gabriel. He was so hungry by now that he almost didn’t care.

 

He had tried everything: the muesli had apparently drowned in the crying milk, the camembert wouldn’t stop shouting “ne me mange pas, s’il te plait” and don’t even get him started on the smoothie. He had systematically emptied the bunker’s pantry, right into the bin until there was nothing edible left. 

 

Dean crawled into the kitchen on the seventh day, strength and sanity not so slowly fading. He would eat about anything right now, bad conscience be damned. He hoped for a forgotten salami or a bit of beef jerky, but all he could find was a slightly rotten avocado swimming in a pool of spilled vodka. 

 

“Isss okay,” she slurred, “go on and cut me open, my best days are over anyway.” She started to cry a little but pulled herself together rather quickly, the alcohol probably giving her liquid courage. She sounded calm and collected when she continued, if a tid bit suicidal. 

 

“At least his way my death wouldn’t be pointless, like my whole exiss…exits...life.”

 

“Are you sure?” Dean tried not to sound too eager but he couldn’t wait to eat the avocado out. “I could still try that glas of poupon…”

 

“Mustard, phh, don’t be silly, big guy like you can’t live on condiments. Nah, it would be an honor to be munched on by a young, good looking fella like you. Besides, “she dropped her voice to a rather sultry level, “I bet your tongue feels amazing when you lick around my firm, voluptuous pit.”

 

The last string that held Dean back ripped at those words and he dug his hard knife into the avocado’s soft flesh. With shaking hands he dipped his index finger right into the wet, tight center.

 

“Oh my god, that’s the best thing I ever had in my mouth,” he moaned around his finger.

 

“Baby yes, dig deeper, give me more, push in with all your fingers, I can take it! Fuck, yes, Dean, right there!”

 

Dean fingered, licked and sucked the avocado, ate her out completely until with one last orgiastic cry, she goes silence for good.

 

That’s how Cas and Sam find him an hour later, slumped against the fridge, face smeared with avocado, boxers coated in drying come. He wasn’t awake enough to feel Cas’s gentle touch against his temple that freed him from Gabriel’s curse or hear how his brother broke down laughing when Cas told him what happened and strong arms carried him to his bed.

 

Tomorrow would be a better day and never again in his whole life would he ever touch another avocado. He owed her at least that much.

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Tell me what you really think and leave a comment.
> 
> And of course you can always visit me on [tumblr](http://reaperlove77.tumblr.com).


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